


such a perfect place to start

by elisa_pie



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Breathplay, First Kiss, M/M, Under-negotiated Kink, just a little bit kinky, very mild though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 04:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15356385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisa_pie/pseuds/elisa_pie
Summary: Jared keeps looking at Richard, and Richard figures some things out.





	such a perfect place to start

Richard likes to wear his shirts buttoned all the way up. It’s partly to cover any imperfections on the upper part of his chest that might be visible if he left a few buttons undone, and partly for the sense of security it brings. Having something around his throat—nothing too tight, just the snugly fitting collar of his favourite shirt—it feels, well. Nice. He doesn’t really think about it too much.

That’s what he’d say if anyone asked about it—which, luckily, no one does, because maybe he actually wouldn’t say any of that out loud. To anyone. Ever.

But right now his neck is itching. It’s probably from the new aftershave he’s been trying out, and having any fabric against the skin there just makes the itching worse. That’s the last time he’s going to listen to Erlich’s advice about anything, especially when it comes to style.

So Richard doesn’t button his red-and-blue checkered shirt all the way up. He spends a good few minutes in front of a mirror that morning rearranging the collar in a way that doesn’t make it look like he just forgot to do the top buttons. He feels like enough of a disaster already on a day-to-day basis and wearing a nice, clean shirt with all the buttons done usually helps him feel more focused. So Richard’s not completely happy with the result, and how much of his chest is visible, but it’s not like anyone actually pays any attention to how he’s dressed anyway. Unless they’re going to some meeting and Jared starts suggesting “casual, but still professional” outfits to him. They do have a meeting at Raviga later—and, even worse, he has to actually dress up for some stupid fundraising event that evening—but until then he doesn’t have to worry about how he looks.

Jared’s the only one in the working area when Richard walks through the room, and Richard frowns to himself a little, wondering exactly how early Jared arrives every morning. He just seems to always… be there. Ready to help with any problem the company, or Richard, might have.

“Good morning, Richard,” Jared calls after him, sounding way too cheery for such an early hour. But then again, Jared always sounds like that.

“Yeah, uh. Morning,” Richard mumbles and goes to the kitchen to get coffee.

He’s pouring a cup for himself from the nearly full pot, and starts thinking about how often Jared has offered him a cup of coffee, or just brought him one without asking when Richard had been staring at his laptop, bleary-eyed and exhausted. Jared’s always taking care of him, and, yeah okay, Richard sort of likes it, but it also makes him feel a little guilty sometimes. Maybe he should…?

“Hey, Jared,” Richard calls out to the workroom. “You want some coffee?”

“Oh, thank you, but I do have a cup already,” Jared answers brightly.

Yeah, of course he does, Richard thinks, as he goes back to the working area and sits down at his computer He takes a sip of his coffee and closes his eyes for a moment. Damn, that’s some excellent coffee, Richard thinks. Jared probably made it. He really should be the one thanking Jared here.

When Richard puts his mug down, he notices that Jared is staring at him, eyes focused on Richard’s chest.

“What is it? Do I have something on my shirt?” Richard asks immediately.

He looks down, expecting to see that he’s spilled some of the coffee on himself. It definitely wouldn’t be the first time. But his shirt is clean, and when he looks up at Jared again, Jared’s avoiding his gaze and—is he blushing? No, that can’t be it. Why would _Jared_ be embarrassed that Richard looks like a disaster? It’s nothing new, after all. Jared, on the other hand—well, he always looks like he’s modeling for Brooks Brothers or something. He’s so neat, so perfect and smartly dressed. Jared would never have one too many buttons undone, or coffee spilled down the front of his shirt, or even a hair out of place. Richard doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jared’s hair messy in any way, and wonders what that would even look like.

“I’m sorry,” Jared says, looking at Richard briefly and focusing on his laptop again. “It’s just that you usually wear your shirt buttoned up all the way, and, well, it looks—”

“I knew it,” Richard whines, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “I knew it looked. Stupid. Ridiculous.”

“No, not at all!” Jared says instantly, eyes wide. “Oh! No, I mean it looks, well. Really good. It suits you.”

“Oh,” Richard says, his hand dropping from his collar. “Really?”

Jared nods eagerly. “Yes. I was merely surprised that you decided to deviate from your usual style. But it’s an excellent idea. You look great.”

Richard doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it’s not exactly a deliberate fashion choice, but his cheeks feel warm all the same under Jared’s praise. It’s one thing to be complimented for his abilities as a coder and another thing altogether to be praised for his appearance. Richard looks at Jared, who gives him a little smile and goes back to his work. Richard just shakes his head a little, carefully takes one more sip of coffee from his cup and starts to work as well.

*

By the time they’re at the Raviga offices later in the day Richard has forgotten all about what happened that morning. He had to button up his shirt all the way — well, he didn’t have to, but Jared was staring at him before they left for the meeting, clearly about to say something about another, more suitable outfit. So Richard buttoned up his shirt. Which is why he keeps lifting his hand up to his neck, scratching a little through the fabric. He catches Jared looking and drops his hand instantly, blushing. Why is Jared always there to see him mess up somehow?

They’re taking a break from the meeting and Jared hands him a small plastic cup of water. Richard mumbles thanks and looks down, suddenly remembering Jared’s kind words that morning, how weird they made him feel. He takes a sip to distract himself from those thoughts, and somehow manages to spill some of the water on himself.

“Shit,” he says, trying to brush off the water soaking into his shirt, which of course doesn’t help at all.

Jared sees what he’s doing, because of course he does, and immediately ushers Richard into the nearest bathroom.

“Good thing it’s just water,” Jared says, reaching for some paper towels as Richard just stares uselessly at his shirt. “We can just dry it, and there won’t be a stain.”

With that, Jared presses against the wet spot with some paper towels. Richard looks down at Jared’s hand, the long fingers splayed against his chest. He suddenly has a vivid image of Jared’s hand pressing against his bare skin, the fingers dragging down his chest, torturously slowly.

“So, um. No need to-to take off my shirt, then?” Richard says, but the tone isn’t quite right for a joke, his voice a little more breathless than he’d like.

“No,” Jared says, looking down at his hand on Richard’s chest. “Unless you want to?”

“What?” Richard says, the word more of a whisper.

Jared moves back to throw away the paper towels. “If you want you could put it under the hand dryer? That might not be very effective, but we could try…”

“No, uh. It’s fine.”

Richard looks at his reflection in the mirror. His shirt is dark; the stain probably didn’t look that bad to begin with. Jared hands him some more paper towels and Richard pats the now barely visible wet spot on his chest. He sort of misses Jared doing it for him, misses Jared touching him. Which is kinda weird and immediately leads to more very inappropriate thoughts about Jared’s hands on him. He shakes his head a little and looks up at Jared, who just smiles at him.

“I’ll see you back out there, Captain,” Jared says cheerily, gives him a little salute, and leaves.

Richard stares at himself in the mirror. He feels like he’s chasing after something that’s just out of reach, like trying to remember a dream right after waking up.

*

The rest of the guys seem to be enjoying themselves at the fundraiser—probably because they can just enjoy the excuse to get drunk and try to flirt without much success. But since it’s a big social event, full of important people and “some wonderful networking opportunities”, as Jared keeps reminding him, Richard can’t really find anything pleasant about it. He escapes to an empty hallway as soon as he’s done as much socializing as he thinks is required of him and he’s sure no one is going to miss him.

“Shit,” Richard whispers as he tries to get his tie off. It was difficult enough to put it on, despite the cheery, reassuring voice in the YouTube tutorial saying how easy it was, and it turns out it’s almost impossible to take it off.

“Richard? Is everything alright?” Jared asks, stepping through the same door Richard had just used to exit the party.

Great, he thinks, yet another chance for Jared to see what a mess he is.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, just... I felt like I had to get out of there.”

“Are you having a panic attack?” Jared asks immediately, concerned.

“No, I’m just—my neck keeps itching, and this feels a little tight,” Richard says, gesturing to his tie. “And I can’t—”

“Oh, I can help you with that,” Jared says and moves closer, his hands starting to work on the tie and loosening it.

“Uh. Thanks.”

“Do you want me to take it off?” Jared asks, and when did his voice get so low, so intimate, Richard wonders, as his own mouth moves uselessly, no words coming out.

“O-okay,” Richard manages, barely a whisper.

Jared takes off the tie, and Richard feels almost normal again, breathing more easily. Jared carefully folds the tie in the pocket of Richard’s suit jacket, and then his fingers are near Richard’s neck again, opening the top two buttons of his shirt.

“What—what are you doing?” Richard asks, his heart starting to beat fast.

“Sorry, I thought—you said your neck was itching, and I thought this might help,” Jared says, pausing and looking up at Richard.

“Yeah, it’s. Yeah. Okay.”

Jared’s hands are still there, fingers hovering over the open collar of the shirt. Richard takes a shaky breath as Jared flips one more button open, as those fingers move against the exposed skin of Richard’s chest, slowly spreading the shirt open. Jared’s thumb brushes against Richard’s collarbone, and Richard sucks in a quick breath.

“You’re… breathing really fast,” Jared says, the words all slow and quiet, like his fingers on Richard’s skin.

Richard swallows. It’s not easier to breathe, exactly, with Jared touching him, but the physical sensation of breathlessness isn’t accompanied by panic. With a small jolt of surprise, Richard realises it’s turning him on. And while he maybe should panic about that, the thought feels far away, distant and unimportant like the muffled sounds of the party. Jared is touching him, and it feels like each time Jared has complimented him, just more intense, and Richard can’t get enough of it.

And then suddenly it’s not enough, just to feel the tips of Jared’s fingers against his skin, not when Jared’s mouth is _right there_.

“Are you—are you gonna kiss me?” Richard asks, his heart beating so fast Jared can probably feel it through the skin.

“Do you want me to?” Jared whispers, and moves his fingers down, brushing through the sparse chest hair just visible above the still-buttoned part of the shirt.

“Yeah,” Richard says, a soft exhale of breath. “Please.”

Jared puts one of his hands on Richard’s neck and brings their mouths together. Richard’s eyes close as he feels Jared’s lips brushing gently against his. The first kiss is short and sweet, a little hesitant. It’s good, so good, but still not quite enough, not exactly what he wants. So Richard reaches for Jared and pulls him closer, suddenly desperate for more. Jared seems to sense that, or maybe he’s feeling a little desperate himself, because there’s nothing hesitant about the next kiss. Jared’s devouring his mouth, and Richard is more than happy to let him, surrendering himself to the kiss, to Jared.

Richard gasps for breath as Jared’s lips move lower, kissing down Richard’s neck and chest, sucking and biting at the skin. Good thing Jared had already unbuttoned his shirt almost halfway down his chest, Richard thinks, feeling all of Jared’s attention on him, and it’s such a heady feeling, and kind of familiar.

“You were staring, before,” Richard suddenly realises. “At—at my neck.”

“Yes,” Jared confesses as he lifts his head and carefully moves his hand up Richard chest again until he's slowly, absent-mindedly stroking Richard’s neck with his long fingers.

“Yes,” Richard hisses as sudden wave of pleasure hits him. “Wow. Do... do that. Please.”

Jared looks at him, curious. “Do what?”

“That. What you’re—with your hand.”

“You want me to…?” he asks, carefully moving his fingers along the sides of Richard's neck.

“Yeah, yeah,” Richard says and nods, breathless and excited.

Jared presses down with his fingers, just a little, the touch as gentle and careful as any other way he's touched Richard. The difference is barely noticeable, but Richard is paying very close attention right now. Everything else seems to fade away, his whole focus on all the places where Jared is touching him. It’s like when he’s really fixated on a piece of code, except a piece of code never got him hard and gasping for release.

"This... oh my goodness. This can be dangerous," Jared murmurs into the space between them. “I don’t want to hurt you."

“You’re not,” Richard promises. “That feels good.”

Jared presses down just a little more, and Richard gasps.

“Fuck, Jared, please, I —”

“What do you want?” Jared asks, gently easing the pressure on Richard’s neck until the touch of his fingers is barely a whisper on Richard's skin.

“Touch me, please.”

Jared reaches down with his other hand and slowly drags his fingers along Richard's cock through his pants. Richard arches into the touch and moans, eyes closing. He can’t remember the last time he was this hard, and so close, just from some kissing and someone hands on him—and not even on his dick, just—oh god.

“More, please,” he whispers, beyond caring how much he’s begging.

Jared complies, stroking him through the fabric, and it’s so good, Richard’s already getting close, he just needs…

“Yeah, keep. Keep doing that. And, ah, can you, your other hand, press, press harder. Please.”

Jared presses against his neck again and keeps stroking Richard’s cock with his other hand. Richard gasps, overwhelmed with the sensation, and then he’s coming so hard he’s seeing stars.

Richard leans back against the wall, panting and already missing the feel of Jared’s hands on him. He feels like he still wants more, but he just had a pretty mind-blowing orgasm so he’s not quite sure what exactly he needs. All he knows is that he liked the way Jared’s hands felt on him, all the careful and soft touches and the firmer ones. He just wants to feel like that all over, have the safeness and warmth of Jared’s touch everywhere.

So Richard pushes himself off the wall, watching Jared watch him with a cautious expression, and lifts his arms around Jared’s back in an awkward hug. Well, it feels awkward because he has no idea what he’s doing, really, he’s never been good with this kind of physical affection, and also he has no idea how Jared’s feeling about everything now? But the awkwardness only lasts a second before Jared’s hugging him back tightly, melting against Richard with a content sigh. It’s wonderful, being embraced like this. Richard can’t remember the last time he felt this calm, this safe.

If he knew hugging Jared would be like this, he wouldn’t have denied Jared, both of them, this simple gesture of affection. Even if it meant feeling the hard line of Jared’s cock against his thigh. Especially if it meant that, because holy shit, Jared’s hard? For him? Despite everything that happened in the last few minutes—and oh god, it probably was just a few minutes, wasn’t it?—it’s kind of hard to believe. Hah, Richard thinks, a little chuckle escaping his lips. Hard indeed.

Jared moves back then, looking at Richard's face nervously. He lifts his hand to stroke Richard's cheek and his fingers, so steady and sure on Richard's throat a moment ago, are shaking. "Was that okay?"

"Yeah," Richard says and leans into Jared's hand. "I didn't even know that was — that I wanted — but that was fucking perfect."

Jared moves his hand down, fingertips ghosting against Richard’s neck, a shadow of the way they had pressed down there a moment ago.

"I don't think there will be marks. I did my best to be careful."

"You always are. So careful, I mean. With me. Taking such good care of me. And I..." Richard says, licking his lips and looking down at the way Jared's dress pants are tented, "I wanna take care of you, too."

Jared stiffens a little and says, hesitantly, “Richard, you don’t have to feel obligated in any way, just because I —”

“No, no,” Richard says, moving back so he can look Jared in the eyes as he says, “I wanna do it. And I didn't mean just that, but yeah. I wanna touch you. I want to make you feel good.”

“Oh,” Jared says, looking down and somehow blushing more at that than anything they’d just done. “Well, then may I suggest we leave and go back to the hostel? Or maybe my place? I can, well. Let’s just say I can be pretty loud.”

“Holy shit,” Richard whispers, eyes wide.

Jared smiles at him a little apologetically, as if he should feel in some way sorry about that, about the vivid images going through Richard's brain right now. With dolby surround sound. Richard takes hold of Jared's hand and squeezes.

“Yeah, come on, let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Kudos & comments are always very much appreciated. The title is from the Arctic Monkeys song 505 because that's the first place my mind went when I tried to think of a name for this fic.
> 
> Also I feel like I should let you know that I don't really know a lot about breathplay? This fic just kind of went in that direction. But it's all safe & consensual, and I hope it's okay!
> 
> edit: I can't believe I almost forgot to mention it but this fic was (at least partly) inspired by [this picture of Thomas Middleditch](https://78.media.tumblr.com/c83c6138fbbe905eff1c00fe55735bae/tumblr_oqdscvaEOh1r3gwcjo1_500.jpg).


End file.
